The Priestess and her Syndrome
by Chirkrasia
Summary: When Priestess Elluka Chirclatia learns about a death row inmate who carries [her], she fights to turn him into a test subject. However, kicking a hornet's nest can have dire consequences. K for minor violence.


Like most love stories, mine began with an unexpected meeting. However, I did not bump into my soul-mate on the road, or share a dance at a local ball.

We met underground, in a dusty concrete prison.

I was a priestess, then, young with hopes and dreams of becoming the next High Priestess. Most of my free time had been dedicated to something called [hers], or Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome. It's a strange and terrible condition that affects one from birth, altering their psych to something extreme.

The existence of a [her] isn't very well known, but I suspect it is because the gods grew bored of peace and wanted a 'villain' in the world. Perhaps it was in hopes that humanity would come together to fight against it, or perhaps it was out of a cruel joke. Regardless, the existence of [her]s cannot be denied.

From the moment they are born, [her]s have only one goal in mind. It is total destruction of the gods and all in relation to them. While this doesn't seem too drastic at first, one must remember that the gods created the world. They created life. Therefore, a [her] would want to destroy that life. Committing mass murder is not uncommon, nor are acts of terrorism.

While it is rare for more than one [her] to exist at a time, due to immensely low rates of a [her] surviving birth, each [her] that exist tends to make a great impact on the world. A prime example of this is Pale Noel, the Master of Malice and leader of the terrorist organization known as Apocalypse. From their creation, they have been a constant threat to the Magic Kingdom. Sir Noel himself has led many attacks against the crown, our treasured Queen Moonlit.

While those attempts usually fail, his attacks on the kingdom itself has taken countless lives.

Another example is the man before me, a picture image of the Master of Malice named Kiril. He had been convicted of serial killings spanning the last five years, and was supposed to be sentenced to execution by hanging later this month. However, after discovering he was afflicted with [her], I had specifically requested to see him in hopes of testing a new medicine.

If it worked, then he would be cured of the syndrome and given a new life. If not, either he would die from the side effects or simply be hanged as he was sentenced. Because of these reasons, he made the perfect test subject. Still... It took entirely too much work to meet him, the bespecacled man who stared hard at the ceiling and refused to speak to me.

But I persisted, with a chirpy 'Hello!' and smile.

"You're Kiril-san, right? Convicted of thirty two murders, to be executed in seventeen days. It's nice to meet you! I'm Elluka! Priestess Elluka Chirclatia. I understand you have Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome, and while normally that would call for a swift execution, I've been given a chance to help you!" Despite my bubbly tone and quick words, he made no reply. The man didn't even look at me!

"It says here you're sixteen, so we're the same age! That's pretty cool!"

Still nothing, but I was determined.

"Well.. Let me explain the process. I've been studying [her] for a bit longer than you've been actively committing murder. Today, you'll be helping me test the results of my research! Many people said it couldn't be done, but I believe I've created a medicine that will cure [her]." I rapped my knuckles against the clipboard and sat down.

While the entire room was hard concrete, it had been outfitted with an examination table, equipment table, and chair. The criminal was strapped tight to the examination table with magically enchanted binds, preventing any movement below the neck. Honestly, I had asked for more precautions due to the nature of the magic used, but I'd just have to hope it would be fine.

"Well, it's a two part process! The first half is a test to activate the syndrome. Otherwise, it's too well hidden in your DNA for the medicine to work. This is done with an enhanced injection. In short, I'll be using specially developed magic to enhance certain chemicals in the shot. If all works, your [her] will snap awake in an instant. The second half is the actual cure, which is in the form of a very delicate injection. I'd advise you not to move if you want to live through it!"

For some reason, this is what got a reaction. A small, dull laugh. When he spoke, his voice was cool and sharp. "Do you really think I'd be here now if I wanted to live? I've already counted twenty one openings where I could have escaped, and that is within the last hour alone."

"Don't get cocky, mister Kiril!" I wagged a finger at him with a frown. Somehow, he seemed more lively now, glancing up at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you have anything polite you want to say before we start the treatment?" When he merely looked away, I heaved a sigh and stood. The clipboard in my hand was placed at the edge of the table, and I picked up both syringes.

Red for activation, blue for cure. Tucking the blue syringe in my coat pocket, I uncapped the red one and smiled. "This may hurt a little, but you'll be fine."

He didn't flinch when I stepped close and poked at his shoulder, wiping a spot clean with an alcohol pad. Honestly, I could barely even see him breath. It was as if he were a doll, or something of the sort. Regardless of this childish thought, imagining him in a doll's suit with jointed limbs, I plunged the syringe into his arm with no hesitation. It took, perhaps, three seconds to empty it of the red liquid.

The liquid itself was only colored red with a harmless dye. Otherwise, it would be a perfectly clear mixture of chemicals. It would take too long to explain each chemical in the mixture, but it's something like a large stew of different things. The basic goal of the 'AMR' injection is to highlight and bring forward the [her] dna strands that usually lie hidden in one's body. Though that's the easy explanation, it's not like they're just randomly floating around. The strands are mostly only present within the human brain, though some can be found within the rest of the nervous system.

There's only one issue with this process, which is something that I can't fix. To highlight the strands means to put the syndrome into an 'activated' mode. While a [her] is constantly a [her], there's different phases in which they exist. A dormant [her] tends to be pretty benevolent and could easily hide in public. Depending on various factors, both enviornmental and within their own body, they may shift to a more active state. It's easier to understand if you think of it like emotions. A [her] in a bad enviornment and poor mood is more likely to kill someone than a [her] in a good enviornment and pleasant mood.

Dormant [her] DNA can easily camouflauge with regular DNA, causing medicinal treatment to become ineffective. Active [her] DNA will gather in certain areas of the brain to more easily influence the mind and emotions, thus exposing themselves.

In short, the activation medicine can be compared to taking a stick and knocking down a nest of yellow jackets. Or red wasps. Regardless, it's a very idiotic and dangerous stunt.

Warily, I took a glance at the binds on the table. There was no telling how long it would take for the medicine to work, and I couldn't help but wonder if the binds would hold that long.

It didn't take long to receive an answer. I had barely the time to turn away before I heard several loud, ominous snaps resound at once. For a moment, the world stood in perfect silence. Half a second that seemed to stretch for an eternity before the earth tilted on its axis.

I didn't register the pain of my head hitting the floor. Not yet, anyways. My memory had always been a bit strange on that event. Blotchy and undefined in some areas, but incredibly vivid and clear in others. The feel of that man's hand over my neck, nails digging deep into the flesh. The bright red hue of his eyes, and the cold hatred of his expression - these things, I remember well.

But I don't quite remember reaching into my pocket for the syringe.

Recalling using it, however, is a recollection that I could summon with ease. Flicking the cap off with my thumb, stabbing it into the blood vessel behind his ear as the world began to dye itself in monotones. A vague, distant alarm in the background as I emptied the contents.

...And then nothing.

Darkness. A deep, sinking darkness. Tired. So tired. I wanted to sleep. To sleep and sleep and never wake again. To curl up in the cold void around me, sink further and further down.

I don't know why, but I didn't. Even now, I wonder why. But I had dragged myself up through the darkness. Resisting until I could feel the bare edges of consciousness.

And pain.

Bright, dizzying pain that struck like lightning. Icy fire burning at my neck, in my arms. It was vibrant, pulsating with each beat of my heart. I screamed, but I didn't know it. I screamed and cried before blacking out again. This cycle continued for days, until I was able to fight against the darkness and finally, finally wake up.

According to the doctors, Kiril had ripped up the skin in my neck. If they had been any later, I would have bled to death. Even so, I still suffered a concussion from being shoved against the ground and an infection from his nails. They told me about the screaming and crying, though I could remember none of it.

Listening to what had happened, I thought myself quite lucky to be alive. Even if I would forever bear scars of his actions, I was lucky.

And he was even more lucky, according to the doctors. After I had injected him with the medicine, he had fallen into a coma. It seems I had made the medicine too potent, and Kiril had nearly lost his life.

...But it _worked_.

He was recovering in a different room, dazed and confused and meek. One of the doctors ran a test and found no trace of [her] in his system. Of course, by the nature of the syndrome, I'd have to assign a pill form of the medicine to ensure it wouldn't have any chance of returning.

Regardless, the medicine actually _worked_!

For the first time, someone had been cured of the taboo syndrome!

Frustratingly enough, I wasn't allowed to see Kiril until we were healed. It took a few months before I could meet the cured Kiril. My injuries, his mental state... They were both incredibly fragile, but we had found a way through it. And when I had walked into his hospital room, barefoot and in a plain gown with bandages around my neck in a grotesque joke of a choker, he stared.

And _apologized_. Deeply, sincerely, with shock and horror at what he had done. It was like seeing a brand new person. A brand new, slightly irritating person who looked like he would cry any second.

"...Hey. As long as you tell me about your recovery, it'll be fine. I'd like to know how you dealt with the cure from your end."

* * *

A/N: Howdy, everyone. Sorry I've been inactive for ages - work and all that. Here's a new story! I'd like to write the entirety of Elluka and Kiril's relationship from start to finish, but I don't know if I'll have the drive to do it. Anyways, this is based on a headcanon from a friend about Kiril meeting Elluka in prison, and on my own ideas of how [her] is cured. For reference, I won't use [HER] as mothy only uses [her], and HER whisper and [her] whisper are two distinct different things in Catastrophe. I'd like to keep it that way.

Personally, I love the idea of dorky meek Kiril being the result of being cured, and a basic carbon copy of Seth and Pale being the [her] Kiril. Big thanks to hansel-the-shitposting-boy on tumblr for giving me the idea of actually writing this out. I'll change the genre and summary if I decide to continue it.


End file.
